


Then you came (and caused a spark)

by NavisActuaria



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Battle of Azzano (Marvel), Pre-Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Tent cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 14:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NavisActuaria/pseuds/NavisActuaria
Summary: He could feel spittle cooling on his face, he could feel bark digging into his palm, he could feel the damp dirt through the knees of his uniform, he could feel, he could feel, he could feel. Steve’s palm was warm between his shoulder blades.





	Then you came (and caused a spark)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Steve/Bucky fic, and my first time in the MCU. This is definitely a work in progress (please note that it does contain descriptions of struggling, post-trauma, though nothing more intensive than canon). Title and chapter headings from the wonderful Harry James' I'm Beginning to See the Light. I hope you enjoy :-)

It started a few days after Azzano, when the surviving men had gotten safely back across their own lines. Once it was certain that Steve wasn’t going to get court-martialed for risking his own life to save an entire damn regiment, Bucky relaxed a little, or tried to. Everything still seemed a touch too loud and bright, and his hands were never quite still. All the same, he thought he was keeping the frayed, sparking edges of himself held together, until the third night found him gasping awake, not-quite-screaming though his teeth and every nerve on fire. He managed to scramble out of his tent and make it to a nearby tree before throwing up - a tiny corner of his mind decided to call that a win, as the shaking intensified and he curled down into himself.

There was a voice, Steve’s voice, getting closer. _Bucky, hey, hey you’re alright, you’re okay now Buck, I’ve got you..._

He could feel spittle cooling on his face, he could feel bark digging into his palm, he could feel the damp dirt through the knees of his uniform, he could feel, he could feel, he could feel. Steve’s palm was warm between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, take a deep breath for me, okay pal? Deep breath, here we go...” Bucky could hear Steve breathe in after he spoke. Copying him hurt his ribs, his throat, and somehow the shaking got worse with the second breath, the third. But his head was clearing, his vision lightening up. Bucky scrubbed his sleeve roughly over his face, still breathing in time with Steve.

Steve, who was murmuring nonsense between breaths, who smelled like cheap rationed soap and charcoal and home. Slowly Bucky tipped until his head just rested against Steve’s shoulder. They breathed together, until the cold started to sink into Bucky.

“M’okay,” he said finally. “Sorry I woke you.”

“Are you kidding? Don’t worry about it. That cot’s so damn uncomfortable, you did me a favor.” Steve smoothed his hand up and down a few inches, his careful touch at odds with his casual tone.

Bucky finally stood, his hand never quite leaving the tree, and Steve’s hand never quite leaving his shoulder. A couple more breaths, a quick glance at Steve’s face - worry hidden under a careful, patient look - and he turned back towards his tent.

They didn’t speak again until they were both inside, Steve ducking under the overhead gas lamp and sitting next to Bucky on the cot. The silence spooled out. Bucky felt as if he could hear a fizzing in the heaviness of the quiet between them. He knew his trembling hands would be visible to Steve even in the dark of the tent.

Finally Steve took a breath. “You know that old greengrocer, down on the corner? Next to Rosie Forrester’s uncle’s shoe repair?” He was speaking quietly, both of them aware of the other tents nearby. Bucky nodded a little in reply.

“Well,” Steve continued, “I went round there once, after the serum, when they gave me a day’s leave in the city. Mr. McPherson didn’t recognize me at all. I was just trying to pick up a can of beans and he was mumbling behind the counter about ‘folks not from around here’. I wished so hard that you were there, Buck. You’d’a laughed and told him what was what, I just knew it. Every single day you were gone...” his voice got even quieter. “Every single day. I wished you were there, or I was with you. I didn’t care if I had to walk into hell to get you, and I’d do it every damn day if I had to. Might actually have to, way this war is going. It’s just...”

Bucky felt Steve shift on the cot beside him, hands twisting. “If it’s just battle fatigue, Bucky, I get it, I do. No shame in it, not a bit. But if there’s something else...” The silence grew again, fizzed itself thick in the air. Steve sighed a little. “I just hope you know you can tell me anything, that’s all.”

Bucky shifted too after a moment, knee sliding ever so slightly over, just resting against Steve’s. So lightly, it was barely there, easy to pretend not to notice.

He raised his eyes from where they had fixed on the tent wall and met Steve’s eyes. “I know,” he said. “I know that. Hard to explain something when you don’t even know what it is though, Steve. I don’t know...I don’t think I know a damn thing anymore.” Bucky’s voice was very carefully flat. He lifted his hand, still shaking. It was the thick dark of night but he could still see the unsteady tips of his fingers, unnaturally clear to his eyes.

He whispered ever quieter, and Steve leaned a bit closer. “I feel like I’ve been hooked up to live wires and it never goes away, Stevie. I’m cold and shaking but my skin is burning up and I’m hungry, so hungry all the time, and the lights are too bright and everything’s louder than before,” his voice was still quiet but shaking now, shaking like his hands and the trembling bodies of the men on the other tables, when the electricity came. “It never stops and I can see this, I can see you, Stevie, and it’s pitch dark, how...” the shakes turned into cracks, splinters.

Steve reached out to still his hand, wrapping it in his own. Bucky held down a gasp at the sudden warmth. He tried to pull away, whispering savagely, “They turned me into something, Stevie. Some kind of _thing_ , a thing that can see at night and kill a man with one punch, something wrong.” His breaths came fast and slicing, his ribs tight again.

“No, Bucky, no. You’re not a thing, you’re not a wrong thing, Buck - they hurt you bad, they did, but you’re still you.” Steve’s voice was desperate and certain, trying to pull Bucky back with sheer will. Just like always. “Hey, here, hey - look at me - _look at me._ If anyone would know, it would be me, right? Right?” He pulled Bucky’s hand closer, still wrapped in his. “I’d know you anywhere, Buck.”

Bucky did gasp a little then, the curve of his knuckles held against Steve’s chest. It felt like sticking his hands into precious hot water after a day working at the docks in the freezing winter, tingling and painful as it warmed up. After a minute Steve slid one of his hands out and nudged at Bucky’s shoulder, gentle but insistent. Bucky curled down onto the cot, reluctant to pull his hand away from Steve’s warmth, but Steve just followed and nudged him over. “Steve, you can’t - someone’ll -”

Steve shook his head, hair brushing the back of Bucky’s shoulder. “Nah, it’ll be fine. I’ll wake up before the sun anyways, be back in my tent before anyone notices.”

Bucky paused a moment more. He could feel Steve’s warmth soaking into his back and legs, the first time he’d felt warm in so goddamn long. “You don’t have to,” he mumbled finally.

“Well I know, but how many winters did you spend keeping me warm, huh? Ignoring my coughing and fever sweats, too - I was no picnic, and it stands to reason I can return the favor a little.” Steve’s voice was firm, and Bucky knew better than to try and argue with a Steve Rogers who was determined to be helpful, of all things.

A minute more, then two, and Bucky stopped counting out his breaths. No need, with Steve’s chest rising and falling behind his, and the little part of Bucky’s mind that had been spitting sparks since the table finally quieted just enough. _Maybe,_ he thought as sleep slipped in, _maybe tomorrow will be better._


End file.
